A needle in a haystack
They said they would come find me. Yep. That’s what they said. And I waited and waited but nobody came to pick me up. And there’s not much more I can do here. I know every crack in the whole damn barn already! I address sheep by name. By name! Geez, do you know how many of those are in a flock? I’ll tell you: a lot.
Of course I’ve lost hope. It’s been way too long. I’m getting used to the idea that no one will come to the rescue.
I’ve seen ads of abandoned dogs. You know, when families go on vacation and stop for gas and they decide the dog is a hassle and leave it there. So the gas station people prepare posters, and weeks later the regretful family prepares posters as well to find their “lost” pet (pff what a euphemism. Lost? Abandoned, ABANDONED). But how many posters of “lost needles” have you seen? Huh? None. Not one.
“How did you get here, anyway?”, you’d ask.
Fair question, I suppose. If I’m honest, I have no idea. One day I’m hanging out inside the sewing box and next thing I know I’m in a stupid haystack.